


Two

by Elianara



Series: The Wedding [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Boys In Love, Fluff and Smut, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 16:31:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17646305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elianara/pseuds/Elianara
Summary: After Molly and Mike's wedding Sherlock invites John back to his room.





	Two

**Author's Note:**

> This is the continuation of Plus One, something I wrote over a year ago. On returning to this I liked the first part better as standalone T rated. Hence the series.

The Sherlock felt the ornate plush carpet spongy and almost unstable beneath his feet. It wasn't alcohol, he'd barely managed one glass of red and a sip of champagne for the toast all told. It was the man beside him, the man he'd danced with, the man holding his hand, the man he'd invited to his room. The man now expecting sex.

It wasn't that he didn't want that too. He did, albeit in a vague, primitive way that was alien to him. Earlier, catching a thief, that was his domain. He could be charming, erudite. Give off an air of complete confidence because he was, in fact, completely confident. This just wasn't his area.

They reached the room door and he fumbled with his key card. Almost dropping it.

'Hey.' John stilled his shaky hands kissing the backs of both sets of fingers in turn. 'Don't look so scared. We can go back downstairs if you like.'

Sherlock found himself smiling. 'You came up here for...to...'He stumbled over the words.

'I came up here for you.' John said simply. 'I came up here because this has been the most fun I've had in who knows how long.' Sherlock noted the unconscious clenching of the hand. 'If all I get up here is a cup of tea so be it.' Sherlock slid the key card into the lock finally. His anxiety starting to ease.

'I can do better than that at least. I have a mini bar.' He quipped, pushing the door open and gesturing John in first.

'Did you kick them out of the bridal suite?' John was looking round himself with amusement.

It had been a pricey room, more of a suite really. The huge bed was piled high with creamy soft linen, and there was a plush seating area round a fireplace. A bay window looked out across the grounds. Romantic he knew some people would say. Something he would have scoffed at. Not so much now though, with John.

He found himself bold again. 'Hardly I only realised I was coming yesterday. This was what they had left. It's rather wasted on me-well it was.' He walked towards John and stooped a little to kiss him again. Before they'd been in a cupboard and there wasn't much room to really get into it. Now they had time, space, privacy it was so much more.

John it quickly became clear was tactile. His hands came to Sherlock's waist as when they had danced. This time though they didnt stay still. They roved up over his ribs, his chest, threaded through his hair. He did his best to respond in kind but he felt clumsy by comparison.

Sherlock was struck with the realisation that he liked being handled by John Watson. He'd never liked that before, not really. With his few previous partners he'd accepted the all over touching and stroking as the price of the biological imperative of ejaculation. Here he began to understand the term 'foreplay' and found he was participating enthusiastically. His own hands had found their way under johns jacket and were exploring a firm chest. Then, close to the left shoulder, his fingers hit on something rougher and John seized under his hand. He pulled back.

'Sorry.' He mumbled. 'I didn't mean to hurt you...'

'No its...fine, these days its numb more than anything. Its just-ugly.' Sherlock knew John wasn't really talking about it's appearance. The doctor, having worked in such a macho environment, must know scars could be considered sexy. The confident, almost cocky persona that had persuaded him to dance, to invite a stranger to his room had peeled away revealing the damaged man below. Sherlock was not prone to empathy, it blunted his brain, slowed his work, but he wanted to enfold John in his arms and melt what troubled him away. He could try.

'May I?' He took John's tie in his hands and the doctor nodded. He slowly slid it from his neck followed by his jacket and started on the buttons of his shirt. Both of them so silent he could just hear the music still going on below. Hw slid the shirt from John's shoulders and looked at the distorted and discolored flesh, acknowledging that yes, it was a bit sexy.

'It didn't heal well.' Sherlock said cataloguing the colour, the texture.

'Yeah, nasty infection. That's what did for me really. If it was just the bullet maybe...' John clenched his shaking hand again. Sherlock took the hand between his own and kissed the knuckles, consciously mimicking John's own gesture from earlier.

He remembered their conversation about how John used to do this a lot and he wondered if all the others had seen this flash of vulnerability, if it had even been on display. He took a deep breath squeezing the hand before releasing it to start undressing himself, starting with his shirt buttons. No hint of tease. John at this moment needed to be wanted.

'Let me.' John said moving in and stilling his hands. 'I've been thinking about ripping your clothes off you since I first saw you.'

There was no ripping though, John undressed him with the care of a well trained valet. His hands steady as he removed jacket and shirt. Pausing behind him, hands on his still clothed hips to press lips to the back of his neck. 'These feel a little tight.' John whispered against his ear. , pressing a hand to his zip and pulling it down, the cool air shocking against his cock now only covered by a thin layer of cotton. Two fewer layers than lay between John's arousal and the back of his own thigh.

John turned him round and walked him backwards towards the bed. Crowding him onto his back and straddling his hips, leaning over to claim his mouth again. He reached up blindly to open John's trousers and slide his hands inside his underwear grabbing handfuls of muscular arse with a greedy moan.

They ended up at the absurd point of sitting on the edge of the bed to impatiently remove the last of their clothes and grinned at each other. The easy, cosy feeling that came over Sherlock at this point was it's own sort of overwhelming.

He impatiently, almost roughly, pulled the now naked doctor onto the bed beside him and leaned in for another kiss as he hooked his leg around John's. His cock coming into contact with firm muscle, warm and alive for the first time in far too long. A stuttering thrust was instinctive. His hand found Johns length and greedily explored it. It was fair to say the doctor was rather out of proportion, gloriously so.

'You have lovely hands-among other things.' John growled relaxing under his touch, allowing Sherlock to handle his balls, bury his face in the crook of his neck. 'I'd like to taste you.' John didn't specify where and, as it turned out, he meant everywhere.

John flipped him over, thoroughly kissing his mouth again before moving messily down his neck and collarbone. Sherlock knew he'd be sporting lovebites tomorrow, that they'd be seen by everyone in the lobby of this rather stuffy hotel when he checked out, by the conductor on the train back to London. He wondered how that would be with John beside him, holding his hand like earlier.

Meanwhile John had moved on to his chest, his nipples, then downwards to the sensitive skin of his belly. John's tongue was so close to where he needed it most and the slightest of well-placed licks had him arching up off the bed. John's hands, taking advantage of the gap created by his curving spine, had slid under and downwards to cup his arse. The doctor let out a feral groan as he kneaded.

'Don't tell Molly,' John rasped out next to his ear. ''but I could hardly take my eyes off you all day.'

'It was noted.' Sherlock replied feeling the progress of John's hands. He tended and opened his mouth to speak as John looked at him.

'Its alright, you don't do anal, not a problem.' John laid a reassuring peck on his hipbone.

'Its not exactly that I don't do...I just haven't, for a very long time...I'm sorry.' He trailed off, kind of worrying that John would politely extricate himself and leave. Possibly to go and find someone who would spread their legs. Except not really because John Watson wasn't that man.

'So you who doesn't do this much,' John paused to kiss low on his belly, hot breath teasing his cock. 'has chosen me to get them off thats not something you need to apologise for. Trust me-the year I've had..'

'Its just this evening, its sort of flowed, it never normally flows for me. I...'

 _I'd_ _want_ _it_ _to_ _be_ _perfect_.

He realised with a violent clarity. 'For what it's worth I'd feel the same either way, regardless of who were to... I...' He stopped embarrassed realising the implications of what he was saying, that he didn't want this to be a one off. '...I can't say I have much experience either way.’

He felt John smile against his belly before looking up at him. 'I look forward to it. I'd like to have it in my mouth now though.'

'Yes please.' Sherlock breathed, his manners making an unexpected appearance.

  
Erm...I've got a condom somewhere. I don't mind but if you'd feel more comfortable I could slip one on you.'

'No, you're clean. In the military sexual health checks were routine. Like the tidiness and the fitness its a habit you've kept on, especially given your more recent experiences.'

John laughed nervously. 'You mean my man-tart phase.'

'I...I've been celibate for a good while but you should probably know...'

'I know.' John ran his clean hand over his forearm where there was still a little tell tale scarring, faint but still recognisable as track marks. 'We've all got our demons. You comfortable like this?'

'Yes.' Sherlock sat up to make eye contact. Grateful for the no-fuss understanding, grateful for the way John's hands felt kind but firm against his skin. John's mouth was the same.

Any time he'd received (or given for that matter) oral he'd been high. The act impersonal, rushed.  
John took his time, coaxing pleasure from him, encouraging his grip in greying hair. He could hardly believe this soft affectionate thing was the same act he'd associated with dark corners in dubious clubs and a mind fizzing with coke. More than that John was enjoying it too.

John sighed and gasped, hands running over Sherlock's ribs and hips as his mouth worked steadily. Occasionally allowing himself a stroke to his own cock.

Sherlock finished with a loud moan. John was so gentle with him. Aware of his sensitivity as he carefully moved back and cleaned them both up.

  
Sherlock opened his eyes to John lying beside him staring. His face curiously satisfied given he was still hard.

'That was-hmm.' Sherlock’s body gave a delightful shudder. 'What do you want -for yourself?'

John grinned but looked through his eyelashes, shy. 'What are you offering?'

'I have one idea.' Sherlock rolled on to his side and reached into the bedside drawer pulling out a sachet of lube. 'It was a very expensive room.' He said over his shoulder, at the doctor's noise of surprise.

John was sitting up watching in some confusion.

  
'Not penetration but I thought....' Sherlock tore the sachet with his teeth and poured it into one hand. He glanced back over his shoulder again as he slid the hand between his thighs. Thoroughly coating his skin.

'John furrowed his brow for a second before (with a lovely blush) he caught on. 'You'd let me?'

'Not let-I want you to. Half the times I looked at you today your eyes were on my arse, you were hypnotised. I thought like this you'd be able to touch me exactly where you want to.

'Sorry I didn't mean to ogle.' John said.

'Don't apologise. You were very subtle, a normal unobservant person wouldn't have noticed. Besides, I was looking at you too.'

John grinned bashfully while beginning to stroke and rub, mesmerized, as he slipped his cock between Sherlock's legs.

John flicked his hips experimentally and Sherlock felt the slide against his balls.

'This is lovely.' John moaned, roughly thrusting between Sherlock's thighs as he squeezed, and massaged Sherlock's arse.

It felt incredibly decadent somehow lying here in a pile of high end pillows as a battle hardened soldier rubbed himself off against you. Sherlock was acutely aware of John's thick length rubbing over his balls, the pressure of each fingertip on his hips and arse.

The doctor was muttering, nonsense mostly, but sometimes his name over and over as he got close. John's orgasm was silent save for a sharp gasp, he went rigid and then there was a warm, wet flood between Sherlock's legs. John collapsed against him.

'Thank you,' John said breathless. 'If you ever did let me inside you it would be amazing.' Sherlock  
turned to look at him as he flopped onto his back, sneaking a glance at his softening cock.

'I'm sure it would. Or perhaps...' Sherlock reached across and slid his fingers between John's thighs and under his balls, behind his perineum. John's face lit up in a grin.

'God yes. Wait there and I'll clean you up.' Sherlock lay, strangely comfortable under the ministrations of this virtual stranger, as John wiped him clean with several damp flannels from the bathroom. John talking all the time, about how He was trying to get work as a locum GP and how was really needed to move out of too expensive London. 'Well,' John said finally. 'I suppose I should get back downstairs. My lift needs to leave at half eleven so...'

'Stay.' Sherlock said automatically, his hand reaching out. The decision taken in some unconscious level, the word out before he had a chance to think.

John took it with a steady hand. Dropping back down beside him and pulling the bedding into a cocoon around them.

##########

The train hummed along back towards London as they talked.

'Of course it took a long time for any Of the police to trust me enough to let me on a crime scene.' Sherlock said sipping the coffee John had insisted on buying when Sherlock had bought him a first class ticket back to London. To Sherlock it hadn't seemed particularly generous. He simply wanted as much of John Watson to himself for as long as possible. 'So, where are you thinking of moving to?'

'Not sure. I've not much family, I was thinking Northumberland. I've a couple of friends there and in Scotland so...'

'That's way up north!' Sherlock interrupted.

'I know, that's a myth you know, that you'll burst into flames if you go more than ten miles outside the M25.' John smirked over the rim of his cup.

' Yes but how...You could live with me.' John's mouth dropped open so quickly that Sherlock wondered latte didn't dribble out. 'What I mean is I've just moved into a flat, there's a spare room, not that is insist on you using the spare room but if you wanted your own space. It's central, near the tube, the landlady...'

John kissed the rest of his rambling off his lips.

 


End file.
